Those hands..

those hands

those hands that reminded me of deadly predators
of sharp claws and deadly minds clashing
into an abyss of pointless rage
yet those hands belonged to her, and she
she can negate that effect, render useless any
and all atempts with just her frail(yet so strong)
pressence.

those hands say, they say "my will is strong, im still alive"
and they say it with such majestic grace that you
want to bow and wonder how can they be so graceful

courage is not the lack of fear but the willingles to fight
and she wields it strongly, under the outlook of a shy
woman that will is welded into her spirit

those hands

those hands create, those hands pull out of nothingness
out of the fabric of the universe, they pull life
they can control it, shape it, give it meaning and polish it

those hands can transfer part of her being
with the speed of tought those hands can show
her deepest fears, her strongest desires
and all that without the slightest tremble

i keep looking at them, loosing myself,
my animal instincts telling me to react
while my upper brain functions try to calm me
she wont, she cant harm anyone
and yet i keep starring in dread and in awe
my synapses overwhelm me
and all i can say is "my lady..."